Blues
by rori-mori
Summary: "Lots of people talk and few of them know. Soul of a woman was created below." There's a smile on her face as she sings, her voice unlike anything ever heard in heaven, but I wouldn't give it up for the world. (Lucifer/Taylor story)(Slight lemons)


**Warnings: M rated scene in here.**

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" _Lots of people talk and few of them know. Soul of a woman was created below."_ There's a smile on her face as she sings, her voice unlike anything ever heard in heaven, but I wouldn't give it up for the world. I must give it up, but not yet. Just one more night. One more drink and one more dance, one more kiss with her. The guitar glares from the speakers, vibrating in the air. She comes to me with a glass of golden clear liquid, the smell coming from it harsh. I take the drink, and she takes a sip from her own. I copy her, but down my own glass in one shot.

She never was a fast drinker, she takes her time with things. Savors the moment. She sets her glass down. I thank her, then stand up and pull her closer, taking her hand and wrapping my arm around her waist. She smiles and leans into me, and we dance. Our steps are slow, and while it should have felt awkward, it was like breathing air.

"What do you want to do tonight, Sam," she asks me. The dog whines in the corner, saying, 'let's go to the park'. I shake my head.

"I would like to stay inside tonight," I tell her. The dog lowers her head, upset over this news. Taylor doesn't notice. She pours me another drink.

"I might need to go home soon," I tell her. She hands me my glass, a frown forming on her face.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"Can we still keep in touch?" She asks. Ah, that's the question. Can we keep in touch. I don't know if we can. No, I mean, we absolutely can't. It would be better that way. But I nod, thinking of another topic.

"Play the blues," I tell her. She goes to her sound system, selecting another track. I go and sit down at the table, smiling at her dog. She smiles back. I look at Taylor, admiring her black curls that bounce as she approaches me. She holds out hands and I take them, and she hauls me to my feet and leads me to the bedroom. I'm a little unsure of this. There's always a chance she could get pregnant, which is the last thing I want. I don't want her life ruined by some abomination. We go to the bed, and I shut the door.

She pulls her sweater, revealing a black lace bra. Her underwear is high rise, black lace too, and when she pulls down her pants I see black garters and sheer stockings. I take off my shirt and begin unbuttoning my pants, but she does it for me, and- God she sinks to her knees. God? Did I just say that? That's the last person I want to know about this- now she pulls down my underwear. The excitement builds in my stomach as she licks me gently, up and down, and I let out a shaky breath.

By the time I'm hard, she takes me into her mouth, moving her head slowly. I swallow, trying to keep my composure, but when she sucks hard, I groan. She pulls away and smiles up at my through her eyelashes, slowly standing, her mouth wet and lips shining. And, because I am compelled to, I kiss her, backing her up to the bed, lifting her up and setting her down. I set aside my clothes and lean down over her, and she opens her soft thighs, leaning back on her elbows. Her sly grin was, what do they call it? Like the devil himself? I grin at that thought and kiss her, closing my eyes, the guitar in the song rolling and singing in the background.

She is asleep now. I pull on my shirt, exit the bedroom and close the door behind me. Pull on my jacket, even though the cold won't bother me. The dog looks up at me questioningly, but I ignore her, just like I'm ignoring the guilt that is setting in. I must do this.

It's not Taylor's fault. For millennia I have been moping around, angsty and angry and ever so disappointed and guilty at the way things are turned out. That hatred, that awful festering thing that would make me curse at God and the sky, it faded away. I feel gentler now. Like a flower. Taylor likes flowers. And she has many now, in vases, some wilting, the more recent ones vibrant in the warm room. That music is still playing, the groove rolling along at a leisure pace while the voices in the song are filled with passion. Ah, humans and their passion.

Their passion was nothing like the Angel's. Angels were made passionate; but humans claimed it, grew it, shouted it from the rooftops. And I, I lived for their passion that they had to learn for themselves how to show. Taylor's passion is everywhere. On her paintings, in her photos, in her music and books and all the food she cooked for her and her dog. All that beauty in one woman, and I swear by God she was meant to be an angel.

But she's not. She's human. So I must leave before I make a mistake, or get her into deep trouble. I walk to the apartment door, glancing at the room behind me. A sound system, table and chairs, unfinished glasses of rum, a spotless kitchen. I would miss this. Before I can take make the mistake of staying, I turn and walk out the door, shutting it softly behind me. And don't look back.

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 **And that's it. Hope any readers like it. Since this fandom doesn't have many stories, let me know if you want more of something, I'd be happy to write it out! Thanks.**


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